


Operation Drunk Hanschen

by frostedjosieos



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 10:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5963301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostedjosieos/pseuds/frostedjosieos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hanschen got drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Drunk Hanschen

**Author's Note:**

> For Sandy and Talie.

Ernst was in Study Hall when Hanschen called him. It wasn’t terribly uncommon for Hans to call Ernst during class, but Ernst had told him time and time again he wouldn’t answer if he did. Ernst clicked his phone off and went back to his essay.   
After Study Hall, Ernst ventured across campus to the vineyard to call Hanschen back. Ever since their first kiss there, Ernst had always been partial to spending his lunch period in the vineyard, when he has the time and energy to make the journey. He found a secluded bench and pulled his phone out. Hanschen had left a voicemail. Ernst tapped is screen and held his cell up to his ear.   
“Ernst Ernst Ernst Ernst Ernst Ernst Ernst ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST ERNST-” someone else called before Hanschen’s voice could finish “ERNST”-ing. Ernst checked the caller: Otto. That was odd. Otto had never called when Ernst was at school. In fact, Ernst wasn’t sure if Otto had called him ever, period. Ernst picked up.  
“Otto?”  
“Ernst. I just got a call from Hanschen. All he did was say my name.”  
“That’s so weird. I just listened to a voicemail from him. Same thing, he just said my name over and over. He called me during class, and he knows I won’t answer during class.”  
“I didn't even know he had my number!”  
Another caller interrupted him. Moritz this time. Ernst spoke to Otto, “Hang on, Moritz is calling. I have a sneaking suspicion that something similar may have happened to him.”  
Ernst hung up Otto, then answered Moritz’s call.   
“Let me guess: you received a call from Hanschen where all he did was say your name?”  
“Yes. How’d you know?”  
“Otto and I both got called.”  
“What do you think is with him, Ernst?”  
“I have a hunch, but I don’t wanna say.”  
“I’ll just leave you to deal with that, then, I need to get to class.” Moritz ended the call. Ernst needed to get to class as well, but if this is what he thought it was, class would have to wait. He immediately called Hanschen.   
“Ernsst.”  
“Hansi, how are you?” Ernst asked nervously.   
“I’m derrruuunnk.”  
Ernst placed his head in his hand, leaning on his knees and tipping on his toes. This is what he had suspected. Hanschen had gotten drunk before. Oh, Hanschen Rilow had CERTAINLY gotten drunk before, and Ernst has had to deal with drunk Hans on occasion. Drunk Hanschen tended to forget his relationships with the people he knew and would flirt with everyone, even his own sisters. Ernst particularly disliked this, and so had become very accustomed to dealing with it. He knew what to do. But it had never happened when Ernst was in school. Hanschen’s parents had had him in a very prestigious private school, until he had artfully been expelled due to an incident rumored to have involved many freshman. Ernst and Hans’s sisters, Thea and Melitta, had since healed Hanschen of that stage, and he had managed to convince his parents to transfer him to Ernst’s school. He was supposed to start soon, but until he did, he was at home during the day.   
“Eeeerrnssssst,” Hanschen said softly.   
“What? What is it, Hansi?” Hanschen didn’t answer, but Ernst could hear lots of noise in the background.   
He heard a ding in his ear. Ernst was not about to hang up on Hanschen in this state, so he fumbled about in his bag and pulled out his laptop. He opened his messages to discover one from Moritz, who seemed to have figured it all out himself:  
somephantom [did you check his house?]  
Ernst released a long, exasperated sigh, exclaiming aloud, “Goddammit, Hanschen, where are you?!” Ernst heard humming at the other end of the line. He typed back to Moritz:  
countrypastor [school’s not close enough, Is Ilse in town, do you know?]  
somephantom [she is, actually]  
countrypastor [that’s good. Thank you so much]   
Ernst opened a message to Ilse while Hanschen was still humming:  
countrypastor [Ilse, are you anywhere near Hanschen’s place?]  
He then checked Hanschen hadn’t set his phone down or something. “Hansi?”  
“Ernsty?”  
Ernst breathed a tiny sigh of relief, then glanced back to his computer screen just in time to catch a message back from Ilse.

memyhobbyhorseandi [yeah, not so far]  
Ilse was sitting in her undergarments in a stream across the road from Ernst and Hanschen’s neighborhood. Her dress and coat and socks and shoes were sitting on a fallen tree nearby. As she carefully held her phone above the water, she received another message from Ernst:  
countrypastor [Could you go check his house, please? Under his porch, too.]   
Ilse stood up, dripping water, and typed back:  
memyhobbyhoseandi [Good lord, under his porch? Whatever for?]  
She waded over to the log to get dressed.

“Hanschen, are you under your porch again?” Ernst said into his phone. There was no answer, which seemed to be due to a repositioning occurring at the other end of the line. Ernst could hear a great deal of cracking and snapping and grunting.   
“Ow,” Hans muttered, then a few more, “Ow, ow.”  
When he seemed quite finished, Ernst asked again, “Hansi, you’re under your porch, aren’t you?”  
“Pworch?” He was. Ernst typed a message back to Ilse:  
countrypastor [He’s drunk.]

Ilse stopped mid-shoelace tie when Ernst’s message finally came. Drunk. Hanschen was drunk. And Ernst wanted her to go take care of him. Ilse had had too much experience dealing with drunks. She had gotten drunk in her time, as well, but it was when she was sober that she disliked dealing with drunks the least. When she had lived with the residuals outside the city, they had gotten drunk almost every weekend. And the way the residuals lived, alcohol almost always lead to violence. Usually, they’d just throw punches, which was fine by Ilse, who could easily bring a good number of them down in a fight. Ilse counted herself lucky she had never been whipped, or raped. The residuals hadn’t had a rape case since before the relocation, but Ilse had heard the stories. It was the one thing she didn’t know how to fight against.   
She did almost loose an ear, once. It happened quite a while ago, when she was with one of the residuals named Jeremy. Jeremy was drunk as a bear, and Ilse had had a few drinks herself. As the residuals tended to do when they were drunk, or just any time, really, Jeremy was showing off. He had already painted Ilse’s whole face in shades of orange and pink, and had dragged her around to every one of his friends, saying, “Dats mah girlfriend, dats mah girlfriend.” When Ilse had finally managed to pull her hand out of his and stepped aside to try and clean a streak of orange eyeshadow off her dress, Jeremy pulled out his pocketknife and began asking people for targets. The night had worn on and on, and at some point, when Jeremy’s aim began to waver, Ilse had stopped paying attention. It was nearly midnight when the knife came flying at her head. It came soaring out of no where, spinning like a top at serious speeds. Ilse retained just enough consciousness and affluence to step out of the way, and it thudded into a tree, right where her head had been moments before.   
Just as Ilse was turning to look at the handle protruding from the bark, Jeremy came hurdling out of the darkness, from the same direction the knife had. He slammed his hands on the tree to either side of her head, his face a mere inches from hers. He didn’t say anything, he just breathed hard and stared at her as he worked the knife out of the tree with his right hand. When it came free, he pushed away from the tree and spoke to Ilse:  
“Next time, it won’t be just your ear,” and he spat at her feet as he walked away. When he was for sure gone, Ilse reached a hesitant hand up to her right ear. A drop of blood was welling up on a nick at the very tip. To this day, Ilse’s right ear had a tiny notch in it.   
Needless to say, Jeremy and Ilse were not together anymore.   
Ilse’s immediate reaction was to tell Ernst she couldn’t find Hanschen, but Ernst had done so many things for her in the past, she wasn’t going to just outright say no. Plus, Ernst was a cinnamon roll, and no one could decline him a favor.   
She finished tying her shoe, then picked up her phone and replied to Ernst:  
memyhobbyhorseandi [drunk?]  
She slipped into her trench coat and pulled it tight around her. Her phone dinged with Ernst’s answer:  
countrypastor [don’t worry, he’s not violent when he’s drunk]  
Ilse breathed a sigh of relief, typed back that she was on her way, and began walking to Hanschen’s place.

Ernst felt terrible for dragging up Ilse’s past with the residuals. Even though she hadn’t said it directly, he knew that’s what she had been thinking. He would have to remember to thank her later. Bake her some cookies.   
Ernst heard Hans’s voice in his ear say, “I lone,” and then a message from Moritz:  
somephantom [you should call his sisters!]  
Ernst’s mind was all ajumbled as he realized he was now controlling quite a production, Operation Drunk Hanschen, from the campus vineyard. He typed back to Moritz:  
countrypastor [I hate bothering them with Hansi’s antics. Besides, they’re in school right now]   
then started muttering aloud to himself, trying to decode Hans’s statement.   
“I lone. I lone. What could it mean? I’m alone? Are you alone, Hansi?” No response except for a kind of cackling. He was alone. So now Ernst had to wait for Ilse to save the day.

Hanschen was under his porch, alright. It was so off to Ilse, seeing one, usually so prim and favoring his looks, siting scrunched up underneath his porch in the dead leaves. Ilse had found him because she had heard him talking to Ernst on his phone. It had sounded strangely like a snake. Just as it started up again, Ilse walked up to him and squated down to see his face.   
“Issssssssssse,” he said to her, almost a question. Ilse stuck out a finger and tilted Hanschen’s face back. Oh, yeah. She could deal with this one. She reached out and grabbed Hanschen’s phone from his hand and spoke to Ernst.  
“Ernst. It’s Ilse. I found Hans,” Hanschen was tugging at Ilse’s arm, so she handed him her own phone, then went back to Ernst, “What now?”

Ernst seemed to have an endless amount of relief to sigh today. He quickly updated Moritz:  
countrypastor [it’s ok, Ilse found him, thank God]   
“Ilse, listen to me. Are you listening?”  
“Yes.” Ernst could hear a bit of wrestling and scolding on the other side and, for a hot second, was worried. But he readjusted. Hanschen was a prideful fighter, but if anyone could take him, it was Ilse.   
“Ok. Put him inside. In a bathroom with no windows. In the very back of the pantry is a box of Saltine crackers. Give those to him. And water,” saying Operation Drunk Hanschen aloud made Ernst realize how peculiar Hans was when he drank too much liquor. But he plowed ahead, “Then leave the bathroom and lock the door behind you. He can’t unlock it when he’s drunk, but when he comes round enough, he can.”

Ilse shook Hans off her arm again and said, “Right. On it. Hans?…" He was tugging her coat sleeve and holding out her phone to look at something. On the screen was a picture of a fluffy white cat. Ilse took her phone from Hanschen, muttering, “Hans, what on Earth…"  
“What? What is it?” Ernst asked anxiously. Hanschen, seeming to have heard him, said, “Kitty,” and giggled.   
“What? What’d he say? Ilse, what is it?” and a little quieter, “Are you ok?” Ilse sighed a large sigh and said, “Hanschen has looked up pictures of cats on my phone.” Hans smiled up at her and said softly, “Wiiiiiittyyyy, kiiiiiittyyyy.”  
“Oh, kitty. He’ll come around soon, then. Cat pictures is generally the worst of it,” Ernst said. Ilse had been slightly distracted by Hanschen wiggling his eyebrows at her, still under his porch. Even though Ilse had gotten over her girlish crush on Hans ages ago, she still felt like she was betraying Ernst and quickly turned away. She whispered to Ernst, “Does Hanschen flirt an abnormal amount when he’s drunk?”   
“Oh. Yes,” Ernst's reply had a slightly more annoyed tone then his voice had up until then. Ilse had to laugh.   
“Don’t tell Sober Hans I said this, but you two are perfect for each other.” She could practically hear Ernst blushing at the other end of the line. “Ok, I’m going to hang up so I can drag this mostly grown man inside to his bathroom.”  
“Alright. Thanks again, Ilse.” Ilse smiled and hung up the call.

Ernst set his phone down with a sense of final calm. He attempted to rub the stress out of his face, knowing soon he’d be back in class. He messaged Moritz:  
countrypastor [I understand why you like Ilse so much. She may be snappy and sarcastic, but her soul is as kind and helpful as Wendla]   
somephantom [yeah, she’s something. So Hans is gonna be ok?]  
countrypastor [yes. I told Ilse to take him inside, he’ll be fine]  
somephantom [really? How do you know?]  
countrypastor [Hansi starts finding cat pictures when the alcohol’s at its worst]   
There was a long silence from Moritz after this response. When his reply finally came, it was short and simple:  
somephantom [I love Drunk Hanschen]

Ilse had looped Hans’s arm over her shoulders, guiding him into his house. He could walk fine, he just didn’t seem to have any sense of direction. She stopped by the pantry and found the box of Saltines Ernst had talked about, promptly handing them to Hanschen, who clutched them to his chest. She found the ideal windowless bathroom, quickly fetched him a cup (she was not about to hand Drunk Hanschen a glass) of water, and locked the door when she exited. Locking him in a bathroom didn’t feel right to Ilse, but she knew that Ernst knew more about Hanschen than any person on the planet, and if Ernst said lock Hanschen in the bathroom, then goddammit she was going to lock Hanschen in the bathroom.

Ernst’s phone dinged and he picked it up immediately. From Ilse, it was a picture of a striped tabby kitten. Hanschen must still have her phone. He called Ilse’s phone.  
“Hansi?"  
“Meow.” Ernst sighed.   
“Hanschen, you can stop the cats, now, please. Ilse gave   
you your crackers, didn’t she?”  
“Meowwweee.”  
“Hanschen Rilow, you need to stop the cats, now, ok? Don’t test me, next time I’ll use your middle name.” Hanschen thought his middle name was dreadfully embarrassing, only his family and Ernst knew it. Even when they weren’t in public, Ernst knew that name could bring Hans to terms anytime.   
“Hanschen?”  
“Witty kitty.”  
“Hanschen! Cut it!”  
“BALHHHHHEOW.”  
And so Ernst exploded, “HANSCHEN ELIZABETH RILOW, IF YOU DON’T STOP IT RIGHT NOW I’LL ASK ILSE TO COME IN AND TAKE HER PHONE BACK.”

Ilse’s ear was pressed against the door when she heard Ernst yell Hanschen’s full name. She couldn’t help herself. She snickered. Elizabeth. Hans’s middle name is Elizabeth. Beautiful. She knew she would never use it against him. Middle names could only be used when given to you by the subject themselves. It wasn’t her right to use Hans’s name against him. But it was still hella funny.

A long silence followed Ernst’s usage of Hanschen’s full name. He thought he heard some sniffling and an intake of breath before Hans finally responded.   
“You make me sad.” Maybe Ernst was imagining it, but it sounded like Hanschen’s voice had regained a tiny bit of its narcissistic quality.   
All of the stress left Ernst’s body in one fell swoop and he slouched back against the bench, telling Hans, “Shh, shh, Hansi, it’s ok. I love you, ok? I love you so much. Are you ok?”  
“I tired,” Hanschen responded, then as an almost afterthought, “Hansi.” Ernst smiled at his boyfriend’s “Can you unlock the door? If you can unlock the door, you may go sleep in your room.”  
“I think. Tink. Wink.”

Ilse had almost fallen asleep leaning against the bathroom door when she heard the click of the lock. Unable to scramble of the way in time, the door opened and she fell out onto the floor. Quickly getting up, she turned to see Hanschen standing in the bathroom door.  
“Hans?” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder.   
“Tired,” he replied in an almost returned to normal voice, and slouched into Ilse’s arms, asleep. Ilse dragged him to his couch, and after up hauling his entire body, sat down at the dinner table and breathed the largest sign of relief she could muster.

When Ernst got home, he dropped of his bags then marched right over to Hanschen’s place. He knocked on the door, but didn’t wait for anyone to answer, letting himself in. The door had barely opened when Ernst was smothered by a large, blonde figure. Hanschen hugged him as if- well, as if he hadn’t seen Ernst for a longer time period then just the school day.   
“So do you remember anything?” Ernst asked as they walked in together.   
“A lot, actually,” Hanschen sounded embarrassed. Ernst knew why. He gave Hans a kiss on the cheek, then asked, “Where’s Ilse?” Hanschen gestured to his armchair.   
Ilse was curled up in two or three blankets, not a limb out of place. It was the single most peaceful thing Ernst had seen all day.   
As the two boys stood and watched Ilse sleep, Hanschen “You know,” Ernst said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful for a person’s help.” Hanschen looked at him with wide eyes, touched a hand to his chest and replied, “Moi?”  
Ernst giggled at that. It was another sign Hans was back to his old self.   
“No, Hansi. Not you. Ilse. She did so much to take care of you, even though she has so many bad experiences with drunks.” Hanschen stared at Ernst a moment, before glancing at the floor and raising his eyes to the sleeping girl.  
“Yeah,” he said softly, “I’m thankful, too.”  
This took Ernst aback. He poked Hanschen, half playfully, half seriously, and asked, “You sure you’re ok, Hansi?” Hanschen turned to face Ernst, running his hands through his boyfriend’s hair and resting his forehead against his.   
“What do you think?” he questioned, then pushed Ernst onto the couch, covering him with more kisses than Ernst thought existed in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Almost 100% positive I used the word "affluence" wrong, but it sounded nice, so.


End file.
